


The House On Jackley Street

by ETNMystic



Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [11]
Category: Original Work, To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
Genre: cw kidnapping implication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24017833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETNMystic/pseuds/ETNMystic
Summary: Some kids head to a house and hear things they wish they hadn't.(CW: Kidnapping implication)
Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726699
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	The House On Jackley Street

October 31, 1929:

"I'll race ya home, Tabitha!" yelled my younger sister, Blair, as she skipped down the driveway of the Dubose House where we had to stay after school until our parents got home from work.

"But you won't beat me," said Tabitha confidently.

"Betcha she will," piped up Emma, Blair's best friend.

"Betcha she won't," said Carrie, Tabitha's best friend.

I didn't say a word. And why? No one would've bothered to listen. I'm three years apart from both of my sisters. Somehow, my parents knew that they were going to have another girl after I was born, so they named me Wednesday. Just like the weekday, I was stuck in the middle of it all and no one cared about Wednesdays. 

My two sisters had much better reputations. Tabitha, the oldest, was the mature one. My parents always left her in charge when they were out of the house and she always treated me like dirt. Blair, the youngest, was known as the cute and mischievous one. She could get away with anything and so could Tabitha. 

And what was I called? Wednesday. Just plain old Wednesday Abernathy. I was always different from my sisters, but nothing special. My parents knew it too. Tabitha and Blair fawned over boys and the newest dresses. I wore overalls and wanted a shotgun. No one thought that I had anything good to offer. Until the day we found the house.

"C'mon, slowpoke! Pick up your feet!" yelled Tabitha. 

I knew that she was talking about me.

"Hurry up, sloth!" Blair mocked.

I felt myself getting irritated, to say the least.

"What's the matter, snail? It's not your fault that Blair and I can run faster. It's not our fault that you're nothing, but plain old Wednesday! I overheard mom and dad sayin' that you were adopted and that your old family didn't want you 'cuz you're plain and ugly!"

I'd had it. I jumped at Tabitha and it became a brawl. 

"Hey! You're gonna ruin my dress!" exclaimed Tabitha.

"What's the matter? Ya think that Rodney Smith is gonna come this way?" I asked.

This only instigated her anger. We wrestled all the way down the street until we bumped into cold metal. My head hit on the side of the fence.

"Oh my goodness," exclaimed Blair.

We stood up and looked at where we had stopped. The house had tan paint that was chipping off more and more each day. The dark brown doors were in need of serious repair. There was a broken window in the side of the house. The roof looked like it would collapse any second. The leaves added to the rotting grass, making it look more brown and dead. A large tree stood on the side of the yard. Its crooked branches added to the haunting atmosphere that the manor exhibited. The setting sun and cold wind didn't make it any less eerie. We had heard about the house, but we had never seen it for ourselves.

"The Radley House," Emma whispered.

We had heard legends about the place and were warned to stay away from it. While Tabitha shrunk back in terror, Blair and I were entranced by the house's dilapidation. That was one of the only interests that I had with one of my sisters.

"Hey, Wednesday," said Blair as she elbowed me. 

"I dare ya to go up and knock on the door."

"What? Are ya kiddin' me? What if---"

I looked around to make sure no one else was coming.

"---Boo Radley answers?" I whispered.

"Then all the better. Or are ya too chicken? Wednesday Abernathy, a chicken and a sloth. What a strange animal that would make!"

"Fine. If it'll shut ya up, Blair," I muttered.

I opened the iron gate; it gave a low, long squeak as I entered. My footsteps echoed on the pathway. The stairs were brown and worn, much like the house, and creaked with each step I took. I made it onto the front porch and went to the door. I grabbed ahold of the brass knocker. It creaked as I pulled it up. I gave a few knocks and stepped back. The door opened slightly and I peaked in. 

It was too dim to see much of anything. The smell of kerosene, beer, and blood mixed together, creating a stench so intoxicating, I thought that there were rotting corpses in that place. I soon heard voices and I listened in.

"Arthur, why don't ya go outside for a change?" I heard a woman's voice ask.

I soon made out the sound of scissors cutting against paper.

"No one likes me, mom. Them townsfolk don't got a lick of respect fer me."

"Arthur, it's been years since you've seen anyone. Maybe you could change yer attitude and find yerself a friend."

"Ain't nobody gonna like me."

"You got anyone on ya mind?"

The scissors stopped cutting.

"Well, there's this one gal. I've seen her from my window when she goes to and from school. She ain't ever been close enough to see with jist yer eyes, so I got myself a pair of binoculars, one day, and used them when she was a-walkin' to and from school. She's one of the gals that stops at that Dubose lady's house after school with her sisters and friends."

"What's she like?"

"How cain I know? I ain't never met her before in my life."

"I mean, from what you've seen."

"She ain't like them other gals. She cain't be no Southern Belle. She wears them overalls all of the time. The other girls I've seen wear dresses."

Overalls? Goes to that Dubose lady's house after school? With her sisters and friends? 

"She's a red-head. Nothin' like her sisters. They're blonde and brown haired. She don't look too old either. Like she's eight or somethin'."

My eyes grew wide. I was an eight year old red-head. 

"I think I know the girl that you mean. She's one of them Abernathy girls. Wednesday, I think. Yes. Wednesday Abernathy," said the woman.

"Wednesday Abernathy. I want her. I'm gonna find Wednesday Abernathy someday, or my name ain't Arthur Boo Radley!"

I heard another pair of footsteps come in. Then the sound of skin being pierced and then a scream. 

"Arthur's tryin' to kill me! He's tryin' to kill me with his scissors!"

"Shut up, Nathan," said Arthur calmly as he stabbed Mr. Radley again.

I had heard enough. I ran back down to the rest of the girls.

"Don't ask. Just run like hell!" I yelled as Mr. Radley came out of the house screaming.

The five of us ran faster than jack rabbits back to our own house. I swore to myself that we would never go back to the Radley house again. 

But that was a long time ago......


End file.
